There is a wonder that you and I refused to talk about.
Coexisting with the curious mind acknowledging it's presence yet we go near no discussion.
The thought of it gives neither comfort nor anger.
The curious mind continuously think of it, so often that I wonder if the mind even gets tired.
It's ironically a torture to itself.
No matter how cowardly it may seems, we let it be.
It's like talking about it touches something we shouldn't have.
That it is a sensitive part that even the slightest touch would leave a wound.
Or the slightest touch would open a healing scar.
Then I wonder if just by thinking about it would be more bearable.
Or by being left untold would make a difference.
- the overthinking, bow -
-❤️ queen -